


The Crow

by Aly_H



Series: Two Wardens and a Lady [6]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: (Is he ever though?), F/M, M/M, Mahariel is not happy, Surana grieves by bringing home an assassin, Zevran's introduction, post-Jowan execution fall out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 07:06:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10531404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aly_H/pseuds/Aly_H
Summary: Zevran Arainai is hired to kill the remaining Wardens. Things don't go quite as he expected when both he and the Mage Warden survive the trap and Falcon Surana accepts his offer of loyalty.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of my story Zevran joins the merry band after the group has rescued both the Tower of Magi and saved Connor but the Urn of Sacred Ashes has yet to be recovered.

The mage had kept a wary eye on him the entire trek back towards the camp that he’d left that morning. The assassin knew that with his mana depleted from the healing magic applied to him the Warden would be easy prey.

The black hair was loose, some of it falling into the mage’s face. Some thoughts plague the mage, probably the same ones that had led him to walk straight into the ambush. Or perhaps it is pain. The mage is resettling his bandaged arm in the sling again. Zevran’s blade had done enough damage that the mage’s hand wasn’t opening and closing properly – he’d seen the younger elf try to flex it.

Noticing his gaze the mage smiled, “At least I’m not Mahariel. He’d bring you back from the dead and murder you again for messing up his hands. Don’t worry, we have a better healer back at camp. Even with magic I wouldn’t be able to fix this, it’s too complicated.”

“And there is a slight chance that your companions will murder your dashing new elfservant, no?” the assassin had asked – he’d seen who the brutal one in the group was.

In truth he’d been comforted by the fact that the Dalish elf who led the misfit band of would-be heroes could be ruthless when it came to eliminating threats. The other two Wardens were softer in comparison, one wanted to be a hero and the other? He glanced at the mage. He wasn’t sure what this one wanted, or why he was still breathing after trying to kill him.

Obviously things had not been left… _well_ when the mage had taken his walk with the dog as his arrival in the camp was greeted by relief – a “Thank the Maker, you came back!” from the Templar trained Alistair Theirin (Zevran had done his homework, he knew whose son he’d been hired to kill) – which was quickly overtaken by concern regarding the blood splattered clothes and injury.

“You’re hurt - what happened?” Fen Mahariel was tall for an elf, and lighter on his feet than most the Crows that Zevran had ever known, not a comforting thought if he meant to survive an encounter with the Wardens.

His closeness makes the mage tense and glare even more – if the slighter elf were a cat he’d be bristling with his tail lashing while glaring at the brunette hunter.

“This is Zevran – he’s an ally. Try not to get him executed, alright?” Falcon glared at the elf who flinched and took a step back.

“Wynne, his arm is not in good shape. Try to make sure he can use his hand by tomorrow,” Fen told the old woman.

The older mage then quickly ushered the black haired elf over to sit by the fire so she could work, scolding him the whole time. Falcon watched them over Wynne’s shoulder, keeping an eye to make sure that the elven rogues didn’t try to kill one another. Or perhaps simply not paying attention to the lecture he was receiving.

“You did that to him?” the Dalish’s voice was dangerously low – a warning.

“Wait, why do you think he-” Alistair began, only to be cut off by the blond elf’s amused expression.

“I did,” he replied. “But your fellow Warden has graciously accepted my service in exchange for freeing me from the Crows. I will not harm him again.”

“’The Crows’?” confusion marking Alistair’s words.

“The idiot mage has gotten us saddled with an assassin,” the rogue leader crossed his arms, green eyes narrowed at Zevran: “Loghain or Howe hire you?”

“Mmm, Loghain was the taciturn fellow in the capital, yes? Then he is the one paying but the one that arranged it was a weasel of a man. That would be your Howe, no?”

The other elf frowned at him for a long moment, debating how to respond to what he knew and the mage’s decision. “If I see any sign you are a danger to Surana or any of us I will kill you whether he wants me to or not,” those green eyes showed that the rogue would very much like an excuse to kill the Crow then and there and be over with it.

The elf glared at him a moment longer before he turned and stalked towards the mage who was still being treated. Stopping in front of him, he glared down:

“You can keep your pet assassin, Surana, but you’re an idiot. Saving him won’t bring back your precious Jowan.”

It happened in an instant but Alistair was between the two, the unearthly glimmer of a Templar’s abilities coating the mage as he kept the other two Wardens from murdering one another. The mage stumbled back, looking tinged with a distinctly green hue before he fled to one of the tents.

Alistair rounded on the elf, frustration. “He is _grieving_. Stop being an ass, you know he blames you. If you won’t tell him why you did it you have to accept his anger, not provoke it.”

The elf whose face was half darkened by _vallaslin_ looked tired for a moment. The Crow knew enough of the Dalish gods to recognize that that particular design was for Elgar’nan, with that temper it rather suited the Warden’s leader.

“Have Leli keep an eye on our new ‘friend’, she’s better equipped to keep him out of trouble than we are. And…make sure you check on Falcon later. I’ll be over at Morrigan’s fire.”

As it turned out the Dalish’s decision regarding who would be his keeper was slightly more annoying than he’d expected.

The red haired woman had been a Chantry Sister…but hadn’t _always_ been one. An Orlesian Bard, and a good one at that. Oh her work was very much more about information than killing but the professional overlap was enough that he wouldn’t be getting into any mischief if he were so inclined without this woman noticing.

At least he could be confident in the number of people willing to kill him here. Maybe Ferelden was not so different from home.


	2. Chapter 2

It had taken some asking and prodding and quite a bit of charming to get the story behind the tension that the Wardens were exhibiting. Truly he was a little surprised that poor Alistair was managing to keep blood from being spilled.

The still-healing injury to the mage’s arm was not an issue for someone who could throw lightning and ice with a gesture. The archer clearly didn’t think the younger elf was sensible by any means of the word (and as much as he was the beneficiary of that Zevran was inclined to agree regarding Falcon’s naiveté).

An escaped mage – an apostate – had poisoned the Arl of Redcliffe. The man had aided them in saving the Arl’s son from a demon yet it seemed that Fen had ordered his execution while Falcon was still recovering from fighting the demon in the Fade. Apparently this Jowan had been the mage’s oldest friend, possibly the elf’s only real friend in that dreary looking Tower of theirs’.

The mage was grieving, and angry. It explained why he was alone except for a dog of all things when they’d met. He’d likely stormed off and the fools had left him to his thoughts. Didn’t they realize that the country was dangerous enough even when talented Crow assassins weren’t after them?

_Brasca,_ why did it even bother him that if he’d done the job right the mage would have probably died?

He glanced sideways at the mage in question – Leliana was too dangerous due to her abilities to linger near and the company of the others would be bad for his health so the assassin had found himself joining the young mage at the fire when the group had made camp the next night.

The mage was currently was trying to rewrap a length of leather on his staff that served as a grip but it was proving difficult with one hand as the other arm was currently bound in bandages and placed in a sling.

“My dear Warden,” he spoke up finally, “If you will allow, I can assist you with that. I am certain that you’ll be _very_ satisfied with how I handle your shaft.” He purred the words over in a flirty, lecherous manner – it was amusing to see who he could ruffle and who he could entice.

The mage went red from ear to ear, staring at him, equal parts embarrassment and uncertainty.

“Your staff,” he chuckled when those blue eyes kept staring at him wide-eyed. “You’re having problems with it, no?”

“I, uh…” he hesitated before surrendering the weapon to the assassin. Not that him being unarmed made the mage less dangerous. The blue eyes followed the Antivan’s hands as he fixes the wrapping. “Thank you.”

Zevran’s eyes flashed up to his, amusement in them, “Your current difficulties are my fault, no? And sparing me seems to have made you unpopular with your fellows.”

“They’ll warm up to you,” the mage smiled, relaxing a little. “Especially since you’re being so helpful about my short-handedness.”

“I am nothing if not a gentleman,” the Antivan chuckled, glancing over. “Your arm will heal, no?”

There was a split second where the mage was going to say something else before he noticed the other elf watching him from the corner of his eye. There was slightly guilty expression as the mage realized that whatever lie he had about to use was already caught out.

“…it won’t be a problem in combat,” the black haired mage replied with a slight shrug. “Some of the finer motion will probably be lost but…” his voice trailed off, sadness biting into the forced casualness of it, before the smile was forced back in place despite knowing neither of them was really fooled: “It doesn’t matter, not anymore. Besides, we got an ally out of it, I rather think a whole Crow is worth not being able to give passing Templars the bird.”

He gave a warm chuckle, continuing his work in silence now.

“Can I ask you something, Zevran?” Falcon asked after a few moments of watching the flames.

“Oh? This should be good,” he smiled, flicking his gaze back. “Go ahead.”

“Can you tell me a little about Antiva? I mean, if you’re willing.”

**Author's Note:**

> I apparently can't write anything in sequential order, still the overview of the story is pretty much game-canon just with three Wardens instead of two. The only major difference (as of yet) in my Ferelden is the fates of the non-Wardens.
> 
> I'll reorder the works in the series as I get things written in the proper order. ^^
> 
> For now, enjoy!


End file.
